Hello. It’s me!

You’d think that when we are traveling, there’d be an even split of things to do, an even split of activities that align with Dad’s interests, Mom’s interests, and my interests.

But too often, I’m the forgotten one – like leaving the Son out of the Father / Son / Holy Spirit equation.

Case in point? Our trip across Eastern Washington today. My friend Erik told us to visit Dry Falls. So we did. First, we followed the Columbia River back to US-2 … in case I didn’t tell you, we are going to follow US-2 from Everett, WA to Ashland, WI … maybe a bit further depending upon how things work out.

And then, it was back to US-2 … and Dry Falls.

I wasn’t all that impressed. But then I got on my tippy-toes, and to be honest, it was quite a sight!

I wasn’t allowed into the Visitors Center, but I’m told that Dry Falls looked like this after the last ice age.

Now THAT would be something to see!!!

While Mom & Dad marveled at the sights, I quickly bored of being locked out of the Visitor’s Center. Aren’t I a visitor, too?

I had to express my displeasure with the situation. Humans have “Yelp” to express gratitude or displeasure. Dogs have “Whelp”. This is how you give one star on “Whelp”.

Eventually, Mom & Dad figured out I lost interest, so we boarded up the rig Wiener Mobile and headed East.

We battled dust devils … aka “Satan’s Spinners” once again.

We strolled through Downtown Spokane.

And after another hour or so, we crossed over into a magical land of potato-based bounty known as “Idaho”.

It was at this time that I became FED UP with the situation. When were we going to do something … anything … that a lovable seven month old canine might enjoy?

I made my feelings known.

In a move as stunning as it is unrealistic, I took the wheel from Dad, and pointed us to the most popular stop in Sandpoint, ID.

Amen, brother.

We eventually landed at an RV park down by the river (aka “We were livin’ in a van down by the river’ from Saturday Night Live fame”). We honestly thought this was going to be a nice place. But then we chose our site (lucky number 15).

And while we greatly appreciated the generosity of having our own garbage can, peaceful thoughts were overwhelmed by the intense sound of locomotion.

That’s a train about 25 feet from our rig. They roll through every ten or fifteen minutes, no big deal. And even though it is a well known axiom that every RV park is built next to train tracks, this is a bit close for comfort (#derailment).

Mom and Dad took me for a walk through downtown, then left me alone in the rig to scream myself to sleep while Dad elected to eat his way through Idaho.

Dad brought me back a small morsel of trout – much to the dismay of the wait staff who dutifully tried to collect the sample as waste.

As I write this, my paws are tired. I’m ready for rest. We covered a lot of ground today (see the yellow-colored route – this is our total distance to date, with more than half of the ground covered today alone). Tomorrow, we enter Montana and change time zones. I hear that glaciers are in our forecast.